


Tonight, I'm drowning

by stjarna



Series: Season 5 spec fics / coda / missing scenes [11]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Grief, Miscarriage, grief and comfort, mention of miscarriage, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 15:22:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14115249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: Sad S5 spec fic? See tags. I'm sorry, I'm not even sure how to summarize this.





	Tonight, I'm drowning

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to @dilkirani for the beta.
> 
> Disclaimer: Please, direct complaints directly to my husband, because he kinda gave me the idea for this.

He opened the door slowly, noticing the dim shimmer of the bedside lamp. She was lying on her side, her legs pulled up to her chest. He could see that her eyes were open, staring straight ahead into nothingness.

“Hey,” he said quietly, walking up to the bed. He placed the cup of tea he'd brought for her on the nightstand and crouched down. He covered her hand with his, giving it a gentle squeeze and forcing a weak smile.

The corners of her mouth quirked up microscopically.

“Hey,” she replied, barely above a whisper.

“How’re you feeling? Pain meds helping?” It seemed like a stupid question, unnecessary, but he didn't know what else to say.

She cleared her throat, her voice becoming clearer when she spoke. “Yes. The procedure went perfectly well. I'm fine.”

Her lips pulled a little wider, but he could see the pain behind her eyes, the sadness. Her legs were still pulled up, as if she were trying to disappear.

Fitz looked at her, his thumb gently caressing her knuckles. She stared at the motion for a few moments in silence before speaking up.

“It makes sense, really,” she said calmly, yet Fitz knew her well enough to hear the slight tremor in her voice. “I mean, Deke is thirty. We met him in 2091. He would have been born 2061. Assuming our daughter gave birth to him in her thirties, even late-thirties, I mean… mathematically it makes sense that I wouldn't have been pregnant with her yet, and Deke didn't mention any aunts or uncles, so—” She drew in a deep breath, sighing heavily. “It makes sense. It's only logical.”

Fitz felt his throat close up. He marvelled over the strength she tried to uphold, but he was heartbroken over the way she tried to find rationale behind their loss when he could see the shattered pieces of her heart in her eyes.

He squeezed her hand more tightly. “It's okay, you know,” he said quietly.

Her lips twitched, and he could tell it was getting harder for her to fake a smile. “Yes, of course it's okay. She'll be born in a few years. It only makes sense, mathematically speaking.” She repeated her previous sentiment as if it could convince herself.

“That's not what I meant,” Fitz replied.

She furrowed her brow. “Then what did you mean?”

Fitz blinked, trying to push back tears. “It's okay to be sad. It's okay to cry, and scream, and be angry. Because this was our baby. And just because we know we will one day have a daughter who'll have an obnoxious son, doesn't mean losing this one doesn't hurt. It's okay to grieve.”

Jemma stared at him, her eyes shimmering behind a growing curtain of tears. Her chin quivered and from one moment to the next, her body began shaking with sobs. She closed her eyes, letting her emotions run freely.

Fitz felt the watery trails of tears snaking down his own cheeks, and yet he couldn't help but smile, relieved that she'd allowed herself to let go rather than forcing a strong façade.

He straightened up, crawling over Jemma onto the bed and lying down next to her. He wrapped an arm around her waist, trying to scoot closer to spoon her, when he felt her move. He waited until she had turned around to face him.

He gazed into her eyes, a weak encouraging smile flashing across his lips as he tucked her hair behind her ear.

“It's okay,” he whispered.

She grimaced, an expression between smiling and crying, before another wave of tears shook her body. She scooted closer, briefly lifting her head to allow Fitz to offer his arm as a pillow. She curled up against him, clutching the fabric of his shirt. Fitz draped his free arm around her, pulling her closer. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before closing his eyes, letting his tears fall freely. 

* * *

 

_Missing you comes in waves.  
_ _Tonight, I'm drowning_

**Author's Note:**

> I found the quote at the end randomly. A very similar quote is attributed to a Denice Envall, but not sure if it's correctly attributed.


End file.
